


everything but ordinary

by lianhasu (lianverse)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Love Confessions, M/M, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-21
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:40:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26028874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lianverse/pseuds/lianhasu
Summary: In which Bokuto learns about confessions and Akaashi decides that even the ordinary is remarkable.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou
Comments: 19
Kudos: 104





	everything but ordinary

**Author's Note:**

> a little bit random, a little bit ooc, i call it "freeform."

It was a remarkably ordinary day.

Akaashi had eaten his onigiri, one with umeboshi and one with flaky salmon. He had turned in his homework. He had texted Kozume back on his inquiry regarding Kuroo’s birthday plans. Not that he knew Kuroo better than Kozume, but rather that he knew how to maneuver Bokuto into the right time and right place without ruining the surprise. Because if Bokuto found out about Kuroo’s surprise party ahead of time, well, the surprise would be ruined. And, he bought a curry bread from the snack shop with the extra time during his study period. Overall, entirely ordinary.

Then, on the way to the club room, he ran into Konoha and Sarukui deep in conversation. They greeted him and he dropped into step beside them.

“I feel sorry for her, though,” Sarukui said solemnly, side-eyeing Konoha with a suspicious glance.

“So did I!” said Konoha, “That’s why I had to do it. It’s better for everyone involved. No use dragging it out.”

“You shouldn’t have led her on in the first place!”

At this point, Akaashi vaguely understood what was going on.

“I wasn’t leading her on at all though!” Konoha threw up his hands. “I kept telling her no, but she thinks somehow the next time she’ll be able to change my mind!”

“Hey, hey, hey!” Bokuto bounced up from behind them. “Whatcha talking about? Led her where? Led who where? Changing who’s mind?” Bokuto blinked expectantly.

Konoha faltered. “Ah…”

Sarukui looked back unhelpfully. Their feet scuffed the dirt as they walked, kicking up small clouds of dust in the chill November air.

Akaashi exhaled. “Konoha-san rejected a girl today. It sounds like it didn’t go well.”

“Akaashi,” Konoha complained, “don’t throw me under the bus like that.”

“Konoha rejected a girl?” Bokuto pondered. “But why?”

Konoha frowned. “Because I don’t like her?”

“Oh.” Bokuto scratched his head. “I guess that makes sense. No one’s ever confessed to me before. I didn’t know you could do that. I thought you always say yes.”

Akaashi raised an eyebrow. “Is that so, Bokuto-san? Always?”

“Although now that I think about it,” Bokuto continued, “I don’t have time for confessions. I’m too busy with volleyball. I probably couldn’t love someone who also didn’t love volleyball.”

Sarukui snickered. “Might as well stay single. Unless you’re trying to date someone on the team.”

“Is that why you rejected her, Konoha? Because she didn’t play volleyball?”

“Oi,” Konoha muttered, “don’t lump me in with your single-cell-brained thought process.”

“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi cut in before Bokuto could fully understand Konoha’s quip. “Let Konoha be. It’s nobody’s business who he decides to date or not date.”

“Right, and you know,” Sarukui added, “it’s a delicate thing, rejecting girls. It hurts from the guy’s perspective too, right, Konoha?”

“I’ve learned my lesson.” Konoha hung his head. “I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

“Wait— Saru,” Bokuto pointed at him, jaw hanging open, as they approached the club room door. Akaashi reached for his set of keys. Bokuto never had his keys with him. “Have _you_ been confessed to _also_?”

Sarukui sputtered. “How is that relevant—”

Bokuto clutched his head in agony. “Is it just me?! Just me who hasn’t been confessed to?”

Akaashi opened the door and frowned. “Bokuto-san, how come you’re so sure I’ve been confessed to?”

Bokuto paused, giving Akaashi a blank look. “Well. You’re Akaashi.”

“And that’s my cue,” Konoha cackled and ducked into the club room to change. Sarukui followed behind. Akaashi narrowed his eyes.

“I’m Akaashi,” he repeated tonelessly. “What does that mean, exactly?”

Bokuto rearranged his face into one of deep consideration. “Well I mean, you’re smart and good looking. I just assumed people would want to confess to you. Haven’t they?”

Akaashi tightened his lips. They had. But Bokuto had already assumed, and it was the principle of the matter that bothered him. “No,” he lied. “I would prefer you did not assume things about me, Bokuto-san.”

Bokuto squinted at him. “Are you mad at me?”

“I’m not mad.”

“You seem kind of upset, Akaashi.”

Akaashi nearly dropped his keys. Bokuto was a fast thinker and a decisive player on the court. Observant, he was less so. “I’m not upset,” Akaashi told him truthfully. He glanced at his watch. “We should change, Bokuto-san.”

They both trudged inside the club room, found their respective lockers, and promptly forgot about the entire conversation come the start of practice.

On ordinary days like today, Akaashi was usually the last person to leave the club room, being the only other person with a key aside from Bokuto, who never had his keys. He dug around in his bag for the curry bread he had bought earlier.

“I’m hungry, Akaashi,” Bokuto complained, on cue.

Akaashi handed him the curry bread. “That brings your total up to one thousand two hundred yen.”

Bokuto tore open the plastic and dived in. “Didn’t I already give you five-hundred yen yesterday?”

“No, that was a bottle cap, Bokuto-san.”

Akaashi plucked out a 100-yen coin and paused at the vending machine on the way out of the school gates. An ordinary green tea for an ordinary day.

“Was it?” Bokuto shoveled the last piece of curry bread into his mouth. “I thought I gave you a one-thousand-yen note last week though?”

“No.” Akaashi took a sip. “That was the receipt from the last curry bread.”

“Akaashi, give me a break once in a while!”

Akaashi blinked. “I do. That’s why your total is one thousand two hundred and not one thousand three hundred. One-hundred-yen friendship discount. Is that not sufficient?”

“Discount?” Bokuto’s face lit up. “You’re the best, Akaashi! That also makes me the best, for being your best friend!” It had taken a mere two weeks into his first year on the volleyball team before he had stopped questioning Bokuto’s logic.

“At least pay me back before declaring yourself my best friend,” Akaashi said flatly.

The walk to the station wasn’t long. The afternoon had cooled down into a frigid evening. Only a week until Kuroo’s birthday. They needed to buy presents.

“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi said as they approached the station, “we need to buy presents for Kuroo’s birthday next weekend.”

Bokuto hummed thoughtfully. Akaashi could already tell his mind was somewhere else. “Say, Akaashi,” he began, “do you think Kuroo has been confessed to? If he has, then I’ll be _really_ behind. Akaashi, I’m the ace! I can’t be an ace without a confession!”

“Let’s plan to meet at the Shibuya station on Saturday afternoon. I’ll text you the details.”

“Do you know anyone who might want to confess to me, Akaashi?”

“No.” Akaashi pinned him with a baleful glare and Bokuto deflated. “I’m telling you about these plans now, so they don’t come as a surprise later. Keep your Saturday afternoon open.”

Bokuto’s mood flipped upwards. “Saturday plans! Is it volleyball? Are we playing volleyball?”

They tapped their cards inside the station and paused as they had reached the point where they would ordinarily part ways.

“See you tomorrow, Akaashi!”

“See you, Bokuto-san.”

Akaashi stepped onto the train and let out a small sigh. He thought about what to get for Kuroo’s birthday present, perhaps a brand new edition of the monthly Shounen Jump special. Or a set of key chains for him and whoever he chose to give it to. Something tasteful, he suspected Tsukishima would be quite picky about what he would willingly attach to his book bag. He thought about how he should start packing a scarf for after practices. Maybe two, because Bokuto wouldn’t remember to pack his own.

And then he thought about how Bokuto would react if he was confessed to. He imagined Bokuto looking giddy and proud, chest puffed out. Or perhaps confused, brows arched in a bewildered but excited manner because Bokuto probably wouldn’t realize it was a confession until she presented a floral-patterned letter with Bokuto’s name written in neat kanji on the front. Akaashi imagined there would be hearts hovering somewhere nearby, carefully inked in with deliberation. Or maybe a box of chocolates.

He thought about what Bokuto might say. Bokuto’s face popped into his mind, scratching at his cocked head. _I thought you always say yes._ Akaashi couldn’t imagine Bokuto saying yes.

The empty green tea bottle in Akaashi’s hand creaked under his grip. The plastic warped in.

On Saturday morning, Akaashi texted Bokuto to meet at Shibuya Station at 2 pm. Bokuto was surprised by the sudden plans. Akaashi didn’t know how Bokuto ever managed to hand in his homework on time. Bokuto did have a wonderful charm about him that Akaashi was convinced the teachers had probably fallen spell to. It’s a shame, Akaashi lamented. Everyone wrapped about his finger and no sense of responsibility.

Bokuto was late, but only by about ten minutes, which was an improvement. Bokuto somehow was always only punctual to volleyball related events.

“Sorry, Akaashi,” Bokuto smiled with no trace of remorse. “I was trying to see if the owl I heard outside my window this morning was in my tree or my neighbors’ tree.”

“Ah,” Akaashi said and didn’t ask for more details.

“It wasn’t in either tree,” Bokuto reported sadly.

“I see.” They began walking across the intersection to one of the towering malls.

Bokuto peered at Akaashi. “Don’t you think it’s weird, though? I could have sworn it was there when I woke up. How did it just disappear?”

“Perhaps it flew away, Bokuto-san.”

“But I would have seen it fly away.” Bokuto glared at the sky. “I’ll find that owl someday.”

“Maybe it’s still there but it’s just hiding,” Akaashi replied and that seemed to cheer Bokuto up. He steered Bokuto into the first mall. They looked at hats and watches and bags and videogames. Akaashi knew Kuroo less well than Bokuto. Bokuto suggested they go to the nearby sports store. Akaashi had to remind him that they were looking for a gift for Kuroo and not himself. In an attempt to appease Bokuto, Akaashi suggested they go after finding Kuroo a proper gift.

When Akaashi had finally found a set of keychains that he thought wasn’t embarrassingly cheesy, Bokuto poked his head around the aisle and hollered excitedly about an owl figurine that Kuroo would probably like. Akaashi considered Kuroo’s reaction to the figurine and decided that it was worth the extra money he was inevitably going to pitch in when Bokuto found out he was short a few hundred yen.

After collecting their gifts, Akaashi trailed behind Bokuto to the sports store, where Bokuto insisted on inspecting each of the volleyballs on display and picking through a variety of knee pads before convincing himself that the ones he already owned were the best choice for him.

Akaashi wandered away for a brief period, noticing a gift card store next door. He ducked in to buy two birthday cards. On his way to the register, he passed an aisle filled with blank cards. Shades of pastel. The smell of crisp dry paper and ink. Akaashi noticed the floral-patterned cards immediately. He paused, surveying them with distaste.

He continued to the register and paid. Then he found Bokuto again and dragged him away from the shoes before Bokuto attempted to try on every pair and then realized he wouldn’t be satisfied with anything but the pair he already had.

“Akaashi,” Bokuto whined as they strolled back to the station. “I’m hungry.”

Akaashi paused. “What would you like to do?”

“I’d like to eat something.”

Akaashi glanced at the station. “I noticed earlier that we passed a shop in the station that sold ice cream cones.”

“I’d like to eat ice cream!” Bokuto beamed.

“Great idea,” said Akaashi, “I happen to know an ice cream place.”

So, they went inside the station and ate ice cream cones. Akaashi liked the ones from the frozen section of the tiny shop because they stayed frozen for significantly longer than soft cream cones. He liked them because they were cheap, and he didn’t have to add it to Bokuto’s steadily increasing balance that he owed Akaashi, which was totaling 1750 yen now. He especially liked to lick at it slowly while watching Bokuto scarf his own down in huge bites and then complain of brain freeze.

“Say, Akaashi,” Bokuto started with an absent expression on his face, “do you think I can get a confession before I graduate?

Akaashi’s face remained impassive as he continued to nibble on his ice cream cone. He suddenly wasn’t in the mood to finish.

“Maybe I can ask Konoha. Maybe he can introduce me to someone, what do you think, Akaashi?”

Akaashi didn’t say anything. The sticky stains of the ice cream cone dotted the bottom of Bokuto’s shirt where he had cleaned his fingers in the fabric.

“How do confessions work, Akaashi? Do they just say, ‘I like you’? What should I do if someone confesses to me, Akaashi?”

Akaashi was quiet for a long moment. He tossed the rest of his cone in the trash. He wiped his fingers on the napkin he had tucked under his elbow. “Well, a confession usually starts with the girl asking to talk to you somewhere private.”

Bokuto blinked owlishly at him.

“Oftentimes the girl also brings a letter with her. It would have your name written neatly on the front. It would probably be a nice color, maybe pink, maybe blue, maybe it will have some sort of pattern. It would be a nice piece of stationery, something cute.”

Bokuto’s eyebrows rose. Akaashi felt his golden eyes on him, wide and intense.

“Then, she’ll probably say something about how she wanted to be honest about her feelings and that she will await a response when you’re ready. And then she’ll present the letter and say, ‘Bokuto-senpai, I really like you.’” Akaashi met Bokuto’s eyes. “You would probably read the letter. Then you decide whether you want to accept or reject her.” Akaashi was quiet for a moment. “What you decide to do is up to you, Bokuto-san.”

“But what if they don’t love volleyball like I do, Akaashi?”

Akaashi threw away the napkin. “It depends. Are you okay with dating someone who doesn’t love volleyball?”

Bokuto screwed up his face in concentration. Akaashi noticed a smear of chocolate on the corner of Bokuto’s mouth and wished he hadn’t thrown away his napkin. “I can’t imagine it. What would we do? What would we talk about? Akaashi, I don’t even know how to date someone!”

“There are other things besides volleyball that you both may have in common. And knowing how to date someone comes with practice,” said Akaashi patiently. He glanced at his watch. “Let’s go.”

As they walked back to the midpoint between Akaashi’s platform and Bokuto’s platform, Bokuto rambled on and Akaashi listened. The crowd parted around Bokuto’s shoulders, his shock of silvery black hair. He thought of a girl, standing at Bokuto’s shoulder, head tilted up at him in awe as he talked about volleyball, talked about his spike practice, talked about challenging Inarizaki at Nationals. Akaashi followed him until he stopped in the middle of the station and Akaashi realized he had stopped listening. Bokuto had turned to peer at him.

“Akaashi? Are you in there?” Bokuto leaned in close. Close enough for Akaashi to see the golden flecks in his irises.

“Well then, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi said, turning to jerk his chin towards his platform, his eye fixed on the platform sign. “I’m headed that way.”

“Y-Yeah?” Bokuto raised a confused eyebrow and pulled away. “See ya, Akaashi!”

Akaashi tilted his head in a quick and overly formal bow before moving away as fast as he could without running. Bokuto had been close. Close enough for Akaashi to notice the pores on Bokuto’s nose, the intensity of his eyes. Close enough for him to become cognizant of the fact that, while they were both tall, he had to raise his gaze just slightly to meet Bokuto’s.

Akaashi grasped the circular handhold on the train ride home and glared sternly out the window at the rush of buildings that glided past. His inscrutable expression belied the tight grip that squeezed around his ribcage and the swooping sensation in his gut.

The following week was ordinary. Akaashi turned in his homework when it was due. He texted Kozume that he and Bokuto would arrive second to last before Kuroo. He also texted Tsukishima back after he had inquired if he would also be attending Kuroo’s birthday and was convinced once Akaashi offered to pick him up from Tokyo Station when he arrived on Saturday. He wrapped Kuroo’s gift and prepared the cards from him and Bokuto.

Midway through the week, Komi had visited for lunch and peered over his shoulder while he was finishing up Bokuto’s card to Kuroo, snickered, and said good-heartedly, “Wow, who are you, Bokuto’s mother?” to which Akaashi promptly broke his mechanical pencil tip. He inserted a new graphite stick all while fixing Komi with a sour look.

“Ha… I was just joking.”

“I know, Komi-san,” said Akaashi, still glowering over his pencil case.

“Y-You do…?” Komi paused and then tried to redirect the conversation. “Anyway, when is the surprise party? This weekend? Have you told Bokuto yet?”

“Yes, this weekend, but I haven’t told Bokuto-san yet. If you would please not tell him, I’d rather it remain a surprise until the day of.”

Komi nodded vigorously. “Of course, Akaashi. You can count on me.” He chuckled nervously. “Forget what I said just now. You do a good job handling Bokuto, that’s all I meant.”

“Thank you, Komi-san,” Akaashi replied with narrowed eyes. The crease between his eyebrows disappeared and Komi sighed with relief.

On Friday afternoon, Akaashi reminded Bokuto to wrap his present for Kuroo, to which Bokuto had replied, “I know, Akaashi!” and when Akaashi texted him on Saturday afternoon to meet at Tokyo Station, Bokuto texted back and said he was running late because “reasons” which Akaashi assumed was likely Bokuto having forgotten to wrap said present.

Akaashi waited for Tsukishima at the Starbucks inside the station. Since Bokuto was running late, Akaashi suggested meeting at Kozume’s home, which was not far from Tokyo Station, and then walking to Kuroo’s house together.

“Akaashi-san.” Akaashi turned to see Tsukishima in casual clothes, skinny jeans and a cardigan under a fluffy jacket. Miyagi was a few degrees colder than Tokyo, but regardless, the sun didn’t provide much warmth during the daytime at this point in the fall season. Tsukishima was holding a bag with a gift inside.

“Tsukishima,” Akaashi said lightly. “It’s good to see you. How are things going at Karasuno?”

Tsukishima shrugged. “Practicing twice as hard since we lost to Seijoh.”

Akaashi nodded understandingly. “I’m sure Hinata and Kageyama were glad to hear that.”

Tsukishima snorted, “Won’t shut up about making Nationals in the spring. As if.”

“There’s no telling.” Akaashi glanced at Tsukishima. “Karasuno has powerful first years.”

Tsukishima hummed but didn’t say anything and they walked out of the station and onto the street. When they had almost arrived, Bokuto came lurching down to the street outside of Kozume’s apartment complex with a tragically wrapped item. Akaashi noted with slight surprise that it was so poorly wrapped it easily disguised the unique shape of the figurine. The world works in fortunate ways for Bokuto, it seems.

“Akaashi!” Bokuto waved frantically. There was something clutched in his fist, the one that wasn’t carrying his oddly-shaped present. “Akaashi! I have your money!”

Tsukishima pushed up his glasses and squinted.

Bokuto skidded to a halt in front of Akaashi, holding out two 1000-yen notes. Akaashi moved to retrieve his coin purse.

“What are you doing?” Bokuto’s head tipped sideways with confusion.

“Getting you your change, Bokuto-san.” Akaashi located two 50-yen coins.

“No, no,” said Bokuto, shoving the notes into his open palm. “It’s for the ice cream cones too.”

Akaashi blinked. He had forgotten all about the ice cream cones. Tsukishima shifted.

“Oh! Hey, Tsukki!” Bokuto threw his arm around Tsukishima and gave him a hefty pat on the shoulder blade. “How are you? How’s volleyball?”

Akaashi closed his fist around the money, still blinking.

“It’s Tsukishima. And volleyball is fine, Bokuto-san,” Tsukishima muttered. “We should go in, it’s almost time for Kuroo to arrive.”

Akaashi glanced at his watch. “Yes.” He finally found words again. “Let’s.” Akaashi led them up to Kozume’s apartment, which was already crowded with the Nekoma team and some other people Akaashi didn’t recognize.

Bokuto trailed behind with a confused, “Say, Tsukki, what do you mean ‘it’s almost time for Kuroo to arrive’?” that Tsukishima and Akaashi didn’t have to answer once they piled inside and Bokuto was pounced on by a delighted Nekoma first year who recently joined the volleyball team, Haiba Lev.

Akaashi greeted Kozume politely, who flatly reminded him it was okay to call him Kenma. Also that he was glad Akaashi and Bokuto made it, particularly without the latter ruining the surprise.

“Whose idea was this?” Akaashi squinted at the Happy Birthday banner that was hastily taped up on the wall above the couch.

“Not mine,” Kenma frowned. “Kuroo requested it, but we all refused and so now we have to do it or he'll be sad about it for the rest of his last year with us.”

When Bokuto figured out that they were throwing a party to surprise Kuroo, he shouted with excitement and wanted to tell Kuroo immediately. “He’ll think it’s so cool we’re throwing him a surprise party! It will be such a surprise!”

“Indeed,” Akaashi said mildly, “perhaps we should surprise him first and then tell him it was a surprise, Bokuto-san.”

“Ooh, good idea Akaashi! You guys, let’s not tell him until he comes!”

Kenma’s doorbell rang.

“Everyone hide!” Yamamoto bellowed and then dove behind the couch.

Akaashi crouched behind the bookshelf that blocked a line of sight from the front door. Bokuto bounded into the place beside him, vibrating with excitement. Kenma approached the door and buzzed Kuroo inside the building. They waited.

A knock. Kenma opened the door.

“Hey Kuroo,” Kenma said.

“Jeez, it’s starting to get really chilly out there,” Kuroo chattered as he stepped inside and toed off his shoes. The rest of their shoes had been hidden in the shoe cabinet. “I nearly froze my ass off just walking here from the statio—”

“HEY, HEY, HEY!” Bokuto roared, leaping from around Akaashi. “Happy birthday, Kuroo! Surprise! Are you surprised?!”

“What that fuck is Bo—”

“Happy birthday!” The rest of the Nekoma team jumped out, followed by Tsukishima popping out of the bathroom with a few of Kuroo’s other friends Akaashi didn't know, causing Kuroo to windmill backward in shock, clutching his chest.

“You guys—”

Kenma had pulled out a tiny confetti popper and pulled the string at that moment, wincing at the tiny bang and explosion of color. “Happy birthday. You’re welcome.”

“You guys, you—Kenma!—you,” Kuroo hollered, gesturing wildly. “You threw me a surprise party? I’m touched, I’m moved, I’m honored! Bokuto! Akaashi! Tsukki! You came! I’m moved.”

Akaashi caught Yaku’s eye and they both exchanged silent commiserations at Kuroo’s theatrics. Everyone knew he was ripe with glee. The party commenced, a cake was brought out and presents were exchanged. When Kuroo opened Bokuto’s gift, first, because it was the best obviously, his expression of abject confusion brought Yaku close to tears and made Akaashi smile. Bokuto certainly had his way with people. With a small sliver of satisfaction, Kuroo sincerely thanked Akaashi for his gift, sending him a wink and failing to resist glancing in Tsukishima’s direction while holding the pair of keychains.

Akaashi’s eyes roved over the party, the general chatter of friends and acquaintances, and settled on Bokuto’s wide shoulders and how they shook when he roared with laughter. At some point in the mingling, Akaashi had found a place in the living room to settle down and Tsukishima joined him while Kuroo talked animatedly with Bokuto.

“Has Kuroo ever been confessed to?” Akaashi wondered.

Tsukishima spluttered, “H-How would I know anything about Kuroo and confessions?”

Akaashi shrugged. His stomach burned, knowing that floral-patterned stationery had somehow found its way into his desk in the last week.

“Does this have to do with… Bokuto-san?” Tsukishima asked quietly.

Akaashi didn’t answer, but that was answer enough.

“Did someone confess to Bokuto-san?”

Akaashi was silent for a long time. He sighed and folded his hands together in his lap. “Bokuto-san is our team’s ace. I will make sure of that fact in every way that matters.”

Tsukishima looked perplexed. “Uh, what?”

But Akaashi waved him off, tugging at his fingers now and thinking about how he would smooth down the corners of the paper and use his nicest ink pen.

Akaashi excused himself from the party festivities as dinner time rolled around as his mother was expecting him home for dinner. He bid Kuroo and Tsukishima goodbye, Kuroo had somehow managed to convince Tsukishima into spending the night and returning to Miyagi in the morning. Bokuto had broken off from talking to Inouka when Akaashi had risen to his feet and immediately offered to head home with him. Truthfully, he wasn’t expecting that, fully thinking that Bokuto wanted to spend more with Kuroo and by extension remain in the center of attention. Although, the center of attention, Akaashi acknowledged, was not a bad place for Bokuto by any means.

“Akaashi!”

Akaashi paused to give Bokuto time to shove his feet into his shoes and meet him outside the apartment. November was feeling particularly frigid this evening. Akaashi dug out his scarf from his bag.

“Yes, Bokuto-san?”

“I’m hungry,” Bokuto said, sheepish.

Akaashi considered him for a moment. “Very well, would you like to find a place to eat dinner?”

Bokuto nodded enthusiastically and began walking back towards Tokyo Station. Akaashi sent his mother a text message informing her of his change of plans with a simple apology at the last minute change. Once they had broken away from the residential side streets, Bokuto located the first viable ramen shop and tugged Akaashi inside. The ramen place was off the main road, lodged between towering stores and a plethora of stacked shops. The warm red glow of the lantern at the entrance cast Bokuto in an illusory halo.

Akaashi reminded himself that this was ordinary, sitting pressed next to Bokuto at the bar, close enough to feel the heat between their arms. It was another ordinary dinner, but the first time he had ever eaten with Bokuto, one on one.

As Bokuto talked about how great the surprise party was, the cozy, salty smell of the ramen soup permeated the air around them. He felt caught in a haze, Bokuto’s bright edges softened into something homey and familiar. Akaashi knew this was far from ordinary, the lurching feeling in his gut, the way he couldn't tear his eyes from Bokuto’s brilliant smile.

They ate their fill, Bokuto talked and Akaashi listened. When they finished, Bokuto produced more money to pay for both meals, which Akaashi protested at first, before relenting after Bokuto said it was for the future curry bread he would inevitably mooch off Akaashi.

They walked the rest of the way to Tokyo Station. Akaashi gave Bokuto the spare scarf he packed in his bag. Just before the intersection across which Tokyo Station sprawled, Bokuto stopped halfway down the narrow street. Akaashi paused to turn.

“Bokuto-san?”

Bokuto was looking down at his hands. There was a distance between them but Akaashi could tell Bokuto’s breathing had become shallow. He was holding something, pinched nervously between his fingers.

“Say, Akaashi,” said Bokuto, “I wrote you a letter.”

Akaashi blinked. His breath hitched. Bokuto thrust forward an envelope, patterned with blue and yellow dots—

“What is this?”

“They’re volleyballs,” Bokuto explained, sounding rushed. “You said patterned paper, so I made it volleyball patterned with some colored markers I found.”

Akaashi noticed Bokuto’s handwriting, uneven and haphazard but very distinctly Bokuto, usually illegible, but this time carefully printed with Akaashi’s name on the front.

“No, I mean,” Akaashi frowned and almost looked away because the heat rising to his face was too much, “what is this for?”

Bokuto’s eyebrows crinkled together. “Um, I’m confessing to you?” He scratched his chin. “Did I do it wrong, Akaashi? Did I mess up?”

“No! No. I just, I didn't—I wasn't sure.”

“Oh. Okay well,” Bokuto shrugged and looked down. In the fluorescent glow from the main street, Akaashi could see the smudge of a flush on Bokuto’s nose. Akaashi reasoned that it could also just have easily been from the cold. “I really like you, Akaashi. You said you had never been confessed to, which doesn't make sense because you're you. But I wanted to be the first one because you're the best. I thought about it very hard for a long time. I really like you, Akaashi. Also, I wrote you a letter! It took me all evening yesterday! Read it, read it!”

Akaashi took the letter and carefully opened it. He pulled out the folded note inside. His heartbeat sped up. Bokuto’s careful handwriting, the slightly crooked kanji, the meticulously drawn volleyballs printed around the edges. Akaashi could tell he had put time into it.

> _Dear Akaashi,_
> 
> _You’re very smart and very cool and the best setter I’ve ever had. You always look after me. I am proud to be on the same team as you. I am proud to be your ace. I like you very much. I want to learn to date you and then maybe we can go watch owls in my front yard together and play lots of volleyball. Or something. I like you very much. I await your response._
> 
> _Bokuto Koutarou_

“This is very nice, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi breathed. “This is very very nice, Bokuto-san, I—”

“Wait!” Bokuto yelped. “You don't have to reply now, you can think about it and answer me later! Later, okay?”

Akaashi pursed his lips.

“Actually no, you can tell me now. I’m too impatient to wait,” Bokuto said. He looked torn.

“First, I should clarify that I wasn’t entirely honest,” Akaashi admitted softly. “I have had confessions before. Second, your confession was the best confession I’ve ever received. Third, after a small amount of careful deliberation, I have decided to accept.”

Bokuto froze, processing all of the information. He exhaled a huge breath and met Akaashi’s gaze with a blinding grin. “Seriously, Akaashi?”

“Yes, seriously. I like you very much too.”

“No, before that, you said my confession was the best confession ever! Did you mean that, Akaashi?!”

Akaashi couldn't hold back the chuckle that bubbled up his throat. “Yes, Bokuto-san.”

Bokuto’s eyes widened. “AKAASHI!” And he threw himself into Akaashi’s arms. This was everything but ordinary, burying his face into Bokuto’s shoulder, smelling the sweet notes of Bokuto’s shampoo, feeling Bokuto’s broad chest right against his thundering heart. Akaashi wanted to ask _why?_ but somehow he already knew what Bokuto’s answer would be.

Akaashi wondered when things had gone from ordinary to remarkable but, with Bokuto’s delighted exclamations in his ear and Bokuto’s arms tight around his waist, Akaashi decided that he didn’t mind.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/lianverse)


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